My Outcast State (The Maauro Chronicles Book 1)

by Edward McKeown

  “I will not further reduce the noncombatants, but this installation must be destroyed. This area is of importance to me and these must not be allowed to infest the area...”

  I speed off before he can object further. Destroying the structures is simple. I race through and pulverize the mud and wood buildings. I use my revitalized projectile weapons to destroy anything out of easy reach. I set fire to the fields and crops. My attack is thorough and I increase my bag of enemy by sniping on those warriors whose courage has recovered sufficiently to return to the area.

  ***

  Maauro proceeded with her determined “reduction” of the village.

  “We should secure a skimmer,” I said, as much because I didn’t want to see the destruction as anything else. I grabbed up a weapon from a dead Guilder. Jaelle did the same. We scrambled up and over the jetty, heading back to the machine shed. All of Lostra’s skimmers were tied up.

  Jaelle bounded down the slope of the jetty, her cat-like body taking the drop and the uneven rocks easily. She landed on a platform below us just as a camouflaged door snapped open and Lostra surged out. Jaelle froze for a split second, startled. Lostra looked as surprised but never stopped moving, swinging into a reverse kick that sent Jaelle and her weapon flying in two directions. The catgirl plunged into the mucky shallows. The weapon clattered off a skimmer and disappeared into the muck.

  In the same smooth motion, Lostra spun toward me, her laser tracking. I jerked my weapon up, far too late. Her laser took me in the side, blasting a hole. Then the weapon burned down my arm, making me drop my weapon. Pain took me and I buckled, the blue sky tilting wildly over me.

  Chapter 11

  I pause in my destruction of the village. I have lost track of Wrik and Jaelle. They are not where I instructed them to remain. I deduce that they may have headed for the machine shed to acquire a skimmer. I’m appalled by their lack of tactical sense. I have not secured the area. Not all the Guilders are accounted for.

  My astonishment takes .001 seconds as I turn back toward the beach. I must find them. My hearing picks up a cry and the sounds of a blow from the other side of the jetty. I accelerate at maximum speed, literally running up the side of the jetty to launch myself into the air and recon the situation.

  Even as I clear the wooden buildings atop the jetty, I know that I am too late. My eyes behold disaster. Jaelle is floundering in the shallows, trapped in the muck. But Wrik is falling backward, his circulatory fluid brilliant on his clothes. Lostra’s laser flicks across his wrist, cutting his weapon free. She has elected not to kill cleanly, as I am programmed to. Her actions and her face betoken the desire to inflict more pain. Why must these biologicals inflict agony as well as death?

  I open my mouth and roar with ear-splitting volume. Even Lostra cannot totally control her fight-flight reflex. She freezes for a tenth of a second as I plunge toward her. I accomplish my objective. She ceases targeting Wrik and fires on me. She is a superb gunner and strikes, doing minor damage to my frontal armor. I could cut her down with my projectile weapons, but perhaps I am now infected with the bloodlust of these biologicals. Perhaps it is the sight of Wrik’s white face twisted in pain. She has struck down my sole comrade in this time and it is my failures that allowed it. My failure to understand my comrade’s natures. My failure to properly evaluate my enemy. Failure, failure, failure.

  I am going to tear her to pieces.

  She rolls out from under me as I cannot presently fly and alter my trajectory. Her next shot vaporizes some of my “hair.” Another cuts my cheek. But now it is my turn. I land, gather myself instantly and lunge at her. Lostra screams as my arms wrap around her, and my embrace shatters her body into two parts. My promise is fulfilled as I fling her remains from the wharf and race back to Wrik’s side.

  Already, factories in my body, reawakened by the new fuel, are extruding antibiotic foam and wound bandages into a chamber in my body that I open. Another chemical plant pumps an anesthetic into my finger. I quickly create a needle and jab this into his arm. I rip his canteen from his belt and drain its contents into my body, where it is converted into plasma and Ringers Lactate. I create and insert an IV tube and begin pumping fluids into his damaged body.

  Jaelle has extracted herself from the shallows and is scrambling up toward me. Her eyes are wide with fear. I am distracted momentarily until I realize that I am covered in Lostra’s blood.

  I throw the canteen at her. “Fill it.”

  She looks at me. “The water is filthy.”

  “I will filter it in my body. Move!”

  Jaelle does as she is told and returns quickly. I process the water.

  “Is he going to live?” she asks.

  “I do not know,” I reply. Perhaps this is denial. The injuries are severe but I find I cannot face the prospect of my only…is the word, friend?...dying.“I have stopped the bleeding and dealt with shock trauma. But these injuries are beyond my ability to heal. We need Confed healers and we are so far from aid.”

  Jaelle snaps her fingers in a human gesture. “The Murch! They healed me after I took an arrow in the spleen, almost always fatal to a Nekoan.”

  I turn to her. “Where are they? How quickly can we get there?”

  “The nearest outpost is many miles into the western swamps,” Jaelle says. “I cannot guarantee they will help. They were originally very suspicious of me.”

  “If they do not volunteer,” I reply. “I will provide inducements to cooperate until they do.”

  Jaelle correctly divines my intention. She looks at the smoking village and shudders. “I’ll check the skimmers.”

  “Do that.”

  Jaelle runs for the shed. I seize metal and wood in the area. The metal I press into my body where it is remade in the shapes I need. The wood I shape with my palm blades. Again my factories extrude foam which I shape into the proper form. I am quickly done with my work and have made a litter for Wrik.

  Wrik begins to focus on me as the pain of his wounds recedes under my anesthesia. He groans.

  ***

  I looked up at Maauro. It was easier to breathe with whatever she’d injected into me. “Maauro.”

  Instantly, the android was bending over me. “Yes, Wrik. Are you in pain now?”

  “It’s better. Did you get Lostra?”

  “She is destroyed and the area is secure.”

  “Listen, I need you to promise me something.”

  The huge eyes gazed steadily down at me. Did I detect concern and sympathy in them, or was I kidding myself?

  “I know,” I coughed. “I know you delete unpleasant memories.”

  “Sometimes,” she nodded. “They interfere with my efficient operation.”

  “Promise that you won’t delete any of your memories of me.”

  “I will do as you ask, Wrik, but will you tell me why?”

  “I’m alone, Maauro. I was disgraced in a cause I didn’t care about, but my family disowned me for it. I had to leave my world, my family and my name behind. If I die now, no one will know. No one will remember me.” I looked up, “Except for you.”

  “Do you wish to tell me your real name?”

  I took a deep breath. “You can never tell anyone while I live.”

  “I am immune to interrogation. Your secret can never be extracted from me.”

  I whispered my family name to her. “Wrik is my middle name: I was Piet before.”

  “Good,” Maauro said. “I am pleased that the name I use for you is real.” Her big eyes seemed to shimmer. “Wrik, I think that if you die, I will be lonely.”

  Her comment sealed something inside for me. “Maauro, if I do, Sinner is yours. There’s money in an account, too.” I gave her code numbers and passwords. “Square-D down at the Spacewitch is OK, but trust no one else, and not even him with the secret of what you are.”

  “Thank you,” sh
e said in a small voice. “But I do not wish you to die. I have made a litter to carry you.”

  I groaned at the idea of being carried jolting in a litter. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t rather expire quietly here.”

  “Do not despair so soon,” she said. “You underestimate both of us. The litter is so I can carry you without putting my hands on your fragile body. We must go to the Murch, a journey by land and skimmer. For now,” she pressed a finger into my arm, “sleep.”

  ***

  I hear the engine of a skimmer and lift Wrik. Moving quickly and carefully, I board the skimmer and secure Wrik inside. We pull from the burning village and head into the swamp. I link to the GPS: this time I am immunized and my software hacks into Lostra’s traps and shatters them. I locate us and show Jaelle the maps. She indicates the direction of the Murch encampment. Even at full speed, we spend all of the day and most of the evening traveling before Jaelle indicates a landing place

  We reach a peninsula that leads to an upland. The trees here are different and the ground rocky. We land and I carry Wrik ashore. Jaelle leads on as she has been here before. We follow a path that I note is concealed from observation overhead, with me carrying Wrik’s litter in my arms.

  As we crest a hill I become aware of a disturbance; a power field is operating ahead and over us. It is on a frequency I have not encountered before and has several other unusual aspects. I deduce that the field alters optical light rays, providing concealment. This level of technology is beyond Confed science. Yet the Murch artifacts I have seen are far simpler.

  A structure comes into sight. Obviously at one time it was a spacecraft. But it is in an advanced state of disassembly, with parts of it incorporated into wood and stone. Bunkers and ditching are recent additions. These people also have acquired their enemies recently.

  We are detected. Shouts ring out and the Murch appear, racing to the walls. They are armed with what appear to be air rifles and small crossbows. No threat to me, but I must be concerned for Wrik. I place his litter on the ground behind me and kneel next to him.

  Jaelle calls out. I immediately add her speech to the inventory that I possess. I must be able to speak to these people directly.

  I recognize Faroa, Jaelle’s companion from the night we met. He rushes out in advance of his fellows, who cry warning, pointing at me. He ignores them, running up to Jaelle to take her by the arms. Jaelle quickly relates the tale of my destruction of the Kandalorian village and the Guilders. By the time she is through, I have amassed a sufficient vocabulary and grammar for my purposes.

  An Elder is summoned. He comes forward of his guards. I notice he moves stiffly, but otherwise I cannot tell his age. He, Faroa and Jaelle converse at length as I monitor Wrik’s life functions. Finally I stand and face the elder and his guard.

  “My name is Maauro,” I begin in their language. They shift in dismay, looking darkly at Jaelle. “I am an artificial life form with advanced powers both physically and mentally. Jaelle has not betrayed your trust by instructing me. I learn quickly.

  “She has told me of your ability to heal through mental powers. While I do not understand this, she has assured me this power saved her life.

  “Heal my comrade. You will find it very valuable to have me in your debt. I have destroyed the Kandalorians and Thieves Guild who threatened your existence. I will offer you continued protection from these outside forces.”

  The elder walked forward to look at me. “I am Arbos, called the Elder. By implication, you also offer us destruction should we not aid you.”

  I gaze steadily at him. “I am invulnerable to any weaponry you possess. Clearly you understand that I would make a deadly enemy.”

  “True, but we will aid you in gratitude for what you have done and what you may do. Please bring him to the House of Healing.”

  I turn and smoothly lift Wrik’s litter. Again, the guards murmur at my casual display of strength.

  With Jaelle in tow, we walk quickly to a structure that combines ancient ship metal with stone and pleasing woods. The rooms inside are airy and well lit. A staff of healers of both genders greets us and guides us to a private room.

  The healers examine Wrik with a variety of primitive instruments and barrage me with questions on his physiology. I explain the measures I have taken and their effect, to their evident excitement. They provide me with additional liquids and herbs to infuse into Wrik. I ingest these. Half I reject as toxic or irrelevant; the other half I inject through my hand needles.

  Twelve of the healers enter the room and seated themselves in a circle, linking hands. One sits on either side of Wrik, a hand on his arm. Jaelle retreats to the doorway. I remain in contact with Wrik to protect him as best I can.

  The healers concentrate and, to my surprise, I feel a wave of energy in the room. As it is not an energy I am calibrated for, I cannot recognize it, yet it is there. I examine Wrik closely as his life signs strengthen. The tableau of the silent healers remains for most of an hour, during which I watch Wrik’s organs repair themselves and his skin flow like plastic to close over the gaping wound.

  Finally the healers break their circle. Assistants come in and help the healers leave. The effort has spent all twelve of them.

  Wrik’s eyes open and he looks at me. “Maauro,” he says. “The pain is gone. Am I going to be OK?”

  “Yes, Wrik.”

  His eyes close and his face looks peaceful.

  I look at Jaelle. She gives me an enigmatic look and spins on her heel to leave. I sense that something significant has transpired but have no idea what it may be.

  ***

  I came to my senses and sat up in bed before I realized that I should be dead or at the least screaming from the sudden movement. I reached down and looked at my side. I was dressed only in a loose robe of a fine silky fabric. Under the robe my skin was a bright pink but otherwise unmarred.

  “You’re awake,” a voice exclaimed.

  I turned to see Jaelle walk in. She came in and sat on the end of the bed.

  “Yes. I can’t believe I’m not dead.”

  “It took a dozen of their strongest healers. They’re still asleep from their efforts.”

  There was something diffident in Jaelle and I suspected I knew what caused it.

  “What is she, Wrik?”

  “Jaelle.”

  “Quickly! Before she returns.”

  I faced her. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to know more than you do.”

  “I see. Is she going to let me live? Or am I too much of a risk for her?”

  “You are that,” Maauro’s voice came. Somehow she’d slipped into the room unseen.

  We both jumped, Jaelle to the other side of the bed away from Maauro.

  “Don’t hurt her,” I demanded.

  “What if she threatens me?” Maauro said.

  Did I hear a plaintive sound in her voice? Did my protecting Jaelle upset her?

  “Jaelle,” I began, “you need to promise Maauro that you will never tell anyone what you have seen here or what you know of Maauro. I can’t help you unless you do.”

  She looked at each of us. “Agreed.”

  “If you break your promise,” Maauro said, “I will hunt you down, regardless of any obstacle or threat.”

  Jaelle nodded. “I’ll go you one better. You evidently care about Wrik.”

  Maauro simply nodded, a guarded look in her huge eyes.

  “I know you had to be pretty desperate for money to take such a job as searching for me.”

  “Correct,” she said. “Our need was extreme.”

  If it kills me, I thought, I am going teach her about commerce.

  “We have a huge treasure trove of artifacts and a group of survivors who will be indebted to you for saving them,” Jaelle said. “They’d be happy to build us a concealed landing site here. No one has to kno
w where the treasures are coming from. There are a lot of credits to be made here.”

  ***

  I look at the two biologicals. The web of interrelations and mutual interests pleases me. Such a structure will bear weight. It seems I have acquired a new friend. This thought triggers others. All other beings seem to exist in networks: people, organizations and even places to which they are attached. They float in these relationships as I did in the service of the Creators, cared for by my maintenance crew.

  Only Wrik and I are rootless, connected to no one, without the comfort and protection of these networks. Perhaps existence…life… is the process of acquiring and nurturing these relationships.

  If so, I have, however poorly, made a start at a network.

  “I accept your proposal.”

  ***

  I slept for most of the day, and then, feeling ridiculously healthy, left the hospital with Maauro watching over me. Jaelle and her friend Faroa conducted us to the main hall where the Elder waited. The hall turned out to be part of the ancient ship.

  “This has the look of an engineering section,” Maauro commented.

  “It was once the power plant of our ship,” the Elder responded.

  “What brought your people here?” I asked.

  “We fled the destruction of our home world. We had developed space flight late in our species life. Our explorations had come to little. We found no intelligent species near our home star.”

  “Odd,” Jaelle said. “Our sector of space has teemed with life.”

  “We do not come from your space,” the Elder said. “Our world was far from here. Indeed we do not know that our space is in your dimension. When we fled in this ship, its experimental drive malfunctioned, plunging us into a form of hyperspace our engineers had never seen before. We were utterly lost when we emerged.”

  “What were you fleeing?” Maauro asked.

  “Our ancestors referred to it only as the Horror, something discovered on a dead world. It followed our ships home and fed on our world. We had never run into an alien species before. We had little in the way of warcraft. Only a small number of us escaped.